


bloodlines

by zeleanorfics



Category: One Direction (Band), Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, F/M, Vampire the Masquerade, and zayn seduces a business man its good i swear, later on im sure there will be bloodplay, like in sex and stuff, they also seduce a lot of people, zeleanor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeleanorfics/pseuds/zeleanorfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleanor's sire is executed and a mysterious man in the crowd is Eleanor's lifeline. Now in Santa Monica, Zayn's going to teach Eleanor how to live again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based 100% on Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines

“Haven’t you ever wanted something more?” Sophia spoke, her smile warm and her eyes looking past Eleanor, like she was dreaming. Like she was dreaming of better, greater things than Eleanor could even imagine. Eleanor had smiled, watching her friend carefully and nodded. “I have. And I know you have too.” Eleanor told her, knowing just how to appease her friend. 

Sophia had this conversation with Eleanor almost every other night. Sophia always had these plans, plans that were vague and blurry to Eleanor, but very clear to Sophia. She wanted to rule something. Eleanor doesn’t remember what she had called it, but she felt a ting inside of her when Sophia spoke of it. She wanted her to rule whatever it was as well.

“I wanna show you something…” She spoke again after a moment of content silence. Eleanor sat up with her friend and watched as Sophia stood, making her way to the bedroom window, which was drawn to a close, but Sophia still looked at it like it was open. “The sun’s coming up soon.” Sophia had whispered, her fingers tugging at the curtain. Eleanor chuckled, glancing at the clock on Sophia’s wall. “It’s only ten o’clock, Soph.” 

Sophia turned back around, her usually happy expression missing from her face. It was replaced by a strange sense of sadness. It was like the room began to fill with it, flooding with depression. “Eight hours is too soon, El.” She spoke in another whisper, like it was a secret she wanted Eleanor to keep from the rest of the world, as if no one else owned a clock. “I like it when San Diego sleeps.”

They both knew that night time was Sophia’s favorite time of the day. In fact Eleanor couldn’t remember the last time she saw Sophia when the sun was up. She’s never dwelled on the fact though. It was always normal to her, and it would stay that way, forever.

Eleanor waited patiently for Sophia to show her whatever she had said she wanted to show her but had quickly become impatient, she simply couldn’t resist herself. “Soph?” “Yes?” “…What do you want to show me?” She asks, and Sophia’s eyes widened, like she had forgotten, then suddenly remembered, and her million dollar smile returns. Her teeth shining bright under the light on the ceiling. 

//

“My fellow Kindred! I apologize for interrupting all of your schedules, we are all here today for a reason most unfortunate!”’ Eleanor’s stomach lurched, her eyes re-opened to what looked like a theater full of people. All of them so different, and so odd. She looked around the stage, a man holding her down by her hair and two more holding down Sophia. They were fairly large men, and Eleanor couldn’t breathe. 

She began to panic, but could not take in a single breath. Something forceful was holding her throat closed, like a pile of bricks had been placed on her esophagus. Everyone was watching them, including the only other man standing, besides the men above her.

He had a skin color that looked like a giant purple bruise, and his eyes were dead, but so strangely bright, it’s like they were looking through Eleanor. “We found these two immediately after the embrace of this childe!” He yelled again, his voice filling all of the emptiness in the theater. The sound of his words bounced from seat to seat and hit the walls.

Eleanor’s mouth opened and closed, trying to speak, to breathe, to do anything! Nothing came out but the air swirling around her lips. She turned her head to Sophia, her neck cracking in response to her movements. She had somehow forgotten how to breathe.

She tried to gasp or be surprised by her friend’s state but the tightness in her throat wouldn’t ease, not even at the sight of a wooden piece sticking out of Sophia’s chest (it looked like a leg to a small table or something resembling it), and a man’s tight grip on the back of her throat. 

Eleanor was thinking everything from her best friend’s death to trying to remember things she shouldn’t have forgotten, regardless of someone being kidnapped. Even though she feels like she’s suffering some sort of amnesia, she shouldn’t have forgotten her own mothers name so quickly, should she?

“As you all are aware, I have given in to many requests for embrace, and yet this was not one. This kindred had not even requested to embrace this childe! And as you all know, the punishment…is death.” The purple-ish man continued, and Eleanor watched him carefully, the sound of his expensive shoes tapping against the wooden stage rang in her head.

“Until now I had thought of the accused as an upstanding member of our society.” He watched Sophia closely before leaning in, and whispering something to her only loud enough for the people on stage to catch. “Forgive me…” He stepped back again, staring down the largest man on this stage, who could be related to King Kong, it looked like. “Let the penalty commence.”

She finally took in a sharp gasp as the man above her spun her head towards Sophia, pulling on her hair while doing so. Everything felt like static after that. The man above Sophia’s left side kicked her down onto the floor, and King Kong held a large, what looked like a sword, high above his head, before slamming it down on Sophia’s throat. Severing her head, and her body…vanished?

What used to be skin flew from her bones and turned into bright particles of dust, or something all the same. Then, were gone again, leaving nothing in Sophia’s wake.

“No!” Eleanor screamed, just as the “audience” all gasped in return, a woman in the seats even went as far as turning away. “Now,” The purple man began again, stepping in front of Eleanor. She looked up at him, and all she could feel was pain. Tight, heavy pain in her chest, but no tears would leave her eyes. She felt dried out and empty, like she had not had a drink of anything for months. Yet all she still wanted to do was shed tears for her friend.

The man turned and faced everyone else, “Now, the ill begotten fate of this childe must be determined. Which, as we all know-” “This is bullshit!” Someone shouted, and Eleanor turned her head towards the crowd. A man with dark hair was stood up, his face a snarl, and two other men were stood next to him, and a woman with piercing red hair was standing as well. He was watching the purple suit man closely, their eyes meeting before the rest of theater stood.

The suit man looked to the ground, breaking their gaze first even though the dark haired man still watched him. He looked so angry he could’ve had smoke leaving his ears and Eleanor wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Ah, Mr. Malik. If you had let me finished I was going to say, she will be given the opportunity to live, as long as she learns the rules, and ways of Kindred. Don’t let it ever be said that I’m not merciless.” The man yelled back, nodding at the men above Eleanor, who then grabbed her, and stood her up.

Her legs felt wobbly, like she was an infant or a new born animal. “Let’s go.” The man whispered to the large men and pointed to the back of the stage. “Mr. Malik, if you would be so kind as to meet me back here.” He yelled out to the dark haired man in the crowd, letting everyone else leave the scene, which they happily did. Except the ones that were with “Mr. Malik”. This was literally a scene, Eleanor felt like she was on that stage as an actor, like there were cameras on her. Was this a joke? A play?

*

“What did you just call me?” Eleanor asks, still struggling to walk alongside the man from the crowd and the purple man. She took in another deep breath, trying to re-learn how to breathe all over again. It’s like she had reverted back to her perambulatory stage, and she was not fucking liking this. 

“A Ventrue. You’re a Ventrue. A very noble clan and I expect you to not make me regret this decision, fledgling.” Eleanor stopped walking and so did both of the men, and they watched her cautiously. She began to laugh, her shoulders shaking out of fear though and not humor. 

She was going to go mental if she continued speaking to the man who had literally assassinated her best friend in front of her. The man who kidnapped her. The man who called her every name except her own. She was getting pretty fucking offended.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about? You murdered my best friend then tell me to be thankful of your ‘decision’? It wasn’t yours to make! You killed her!” The dark haired man that had stood up for her earlier sighed. “That’s what the Camarilla does! They murder and call it ‘right’. They tell you what they want and make you think it’s what you want. They try to control your life and they call it ‘peace’. They-”

“Enough!” Suit-man shouted, stopping him mid-sentence, though Eleanor was certain she was more willing to listen to the man who saved her rather than the man who almost killed her. “Here’s what’s going to happen Zayn. You’re taking her to a haven in Santa Monica, you and her will live there, and you’ll teach her things.”

Zayn (what a pretty name) cocked his head to the side and literally laughed in his face. “You’re speaking to me as if you’ve never met me. Or don’t know what the meaning of anarch is?” Suit-man smiled back at him, his eyes shining again with something evil. “You’re saying I should just take care of her right now. I’m sure sheriff isn’t too far away, Mr. Malik.”

“...What things?” Zayn asks, his face changing, like he had just given in. And for some reason Eleanor feels guilty. “Like how to be a vampire.” “Excuse me?!” Eleanor shouted, that same nervous laughter returning. “Listen, LaCroix…” Zayn began, completely ignoring Eleanor. Which, quite frankly, was to be expected. 

“I’m not your nanny. I’m not breastfeeding a product of yours for you to raise later on in life.” “I’m 23!” Eleanor shouted over them, and Zayn glanced back at her, a snarl on his lips and a glare in his eyes. It would be frightening lest she had not seen her friend brutally murdered less than ten minutes ago.

“You’re a child!” Zayn yelled back, looking away from her yet again. “You’re going to teach her, or I’m going to have to kill her once she violates The Masquerade. I will not have more reckless Caitiff littering my streets!” LaCroix yells back, and gives Zayn a look that says “do not start”. 

“This is her trial. You shall take her to Santa Monica, and you will teach her. Then you will meet with Mercurio, and he will provide the remaining details of her assignment.” He narrows his eyes at Zayn once more before he and his expensive shoes stomp away.

“Did you hear that asshole! ‘His’ streets, yeah he fucking wishes.” And Eleanor knows that Zayn’s snide comment was to himself, and not really to her. “I have got a pounding in my head and I didn’t understand a bit of that conversation.” Eleanor responded, rubbing her temples with her fingers in nothing but vain. 

Zayn took a deep breath and sighed, his eyes falling on the floor. “We’re going to Santa Monica, and then I’ll tell you what you need to know.” “Ew, no. I’m not going to Santa Monica, especially not with a stranger. Santa Monica is disgusting.” Zayn looked her in the eyes, and Eleanor saw his pupils dilate down to almost nothing, “You’re coming to Santa Monica.” He spoke back, his voice washing over her like a deep sense of calmness. And she nodded, excepting his words with nothing but ease.

“Zayn! You a Cammy Jockey now?” the people that were with him in the theater were approaching, the red haired girl smiling at him. “What fuckin’ gives?” A man in a white tanktop and a blue over shirt asks, his eyebrows furrowed in nothing but anger. Or maybe confusion. Eleanor doesn’t understand anything right now.

“He was going to kill her, Nines.” Zayn responded, stepping in front of Eleanor, like he was shielding her from something. Though as far as she was concerned, these guys were the good guys. Nines (she’ll remember his name, it’s strange) looks behind Zayn, meeting Eleanor’s eyes. He nods his head at her, “What’s your name?” He asks, the hard-ass look on his face staying there.

“Eleanor.” She responds, looking up at Zayn, trying to get his attention. She’s shaking again. Fear was the only emotion she has, and he was her only landmark so far, a security blanket of sorts. “Well, Eleanor, did you know Sophia?” Eleanor’s eyes darkened, and Zayn finally looked back at her, searching her face for an answer instead of waiting for her voice to work. He nodded at her, and then looked back at Nines, who nodded at Zayn as well.

“Yeah, I- she was my best friend… shit.” She mumbled, cursing herself. How could Sophia be dead and she couldn’t shed one damned tear! What an awful friend. She looked back up at Nines, “Did you know her?”

He nodded, a solemn look in his eyes too. They were mirrors of each other, and looking at the red haired girl and the man with the earing she realized they all were sad. Clearly Sophia had friends Eleanor had never met. “I’ll tell you later how we knew Soph.” Zayn whispered, putting his arm around Eleanor’s shoulder.

She flinched at ‘Soph’. Only close friends are allowed to call Sophia ‘Soph’. Clearly Sophia’s life stretched way further than she had thought. “Bring her by the Last Round later.” Nines spoke, scratching at his face awkwardly. 

Zayn scoffed, his brown eyes rolling in annoyance. Or maybe it was fondness. Once again, Eleanor is still very, very confused. “I hate that nasty bar.” “Shut up you damn Toreador.” The red head snapped, though she still had a bright smile on display, framed by her equally bright red lips. She’s a beautiful girl. “She’s gotta come by before the ivory bastards eat her.”

Eleanor’s going to take a guess and assume the ‘ivory bastards’ are the ones like the Suit-man. LaCroix. She’s gotta remember these names. “Oh please, you’ve forgotten who I am.” Zayn mumbles, turning him and Eleanor around, leaving his friends there laughing. 

Eleanor on the other hand doesn’t know if she can bring herself to smile again. It’d be like betraying Sophia.

//

Santa Monica was a fucking dump. 

It had always been so. Even when Eleanor was little and visited her aunt down near the beach. There was always trash everywhere and hookers on nearly every street corner. It was getting even more dead each year she went. It was like every tourist dropped off the face of Santa Monica. Which, she wouldn’t be here either if she was given the choice.

Zayn stepped out of the Taxi first, his knee bumping against the frame of the car, and the driver was just looking ahead, he made no move to look at them, or even acknowledge them, as it was that way the whole ride. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Eleanor steps out after him, the cab driver immediately peeling away, not even waiting for a tip, or a payment. She gags, looking up at a shop they pulled up in front of, it’s a large grey building with a sign that reads, “Trip’s Pawnshop”. It’s dingy as hell.

“Where is this ‘haven’ place?” She asks, watching Zayn’s face scrunch up as well, “There.” He replies nodding his head forward and his body following that same direction. “You’re joking, right?” She asks, a tiny, bitter chuckle ending her sentence as she follows him to the side of the pawn shop. It seems to lead into a whole other building.

She flinches as the dumpster near the door makes a banging sound, something was in it and Eleanor wanted to get the hell away from it. She pushes forward, rubbing against Zayn’s side. She can’t even define personal space at this moment. She felt like she was being watched and it was a disgusting feeling.

There’s some small boxes in the wall once you walk in, one is labeled “Z&E” so Eleanor is assuming that will be their mailbox of sorts. Unless it’s a coincidence. If so then she could still pray for a chance that this won’t be where she’s going to have to stay. And no, she’s not crazy. Just, very hopeful.

The stairs were creaking when they walked up them, bending the slightest bit. How old was this place? Eleanor covered her nose after breathing in the…air. Or so you could barely call it that. It smelled like death and rats. Eleanor couldn’t even begin to explain how much she already loathed this place.

They passed two doors before reaching the top of the stairs and Zayn faced them towards room 508. The doors had scratch marks on it and the only decorations in this hallway were some blinds on an open window and a fake plant sitting directly below it.

“Zayn, it smells like the fucking dead.” She whined, clamping down on her nose tighter though the smell seemed to seep through her fingers. She watched him struggle to unlock the door, the deadbolt seemingly so old that it was malfunctioning. 

“I actually smell quite nice.” He mumbled, finally popping the door open, the wood making a slight cracking sound. That door couldn’t be any less than fifty years old. “Um, still don’t understand the ‘being dead’ thing-what the hell?” She stopped herself, both her and Zayn looking around them in disgust.

There was a small, old TV set in front of them, and a desk next to it. A couple notes, and an old laptop lying on it. Directly to their left was a mattress lying on a rusty metal frame, and it had no sheets or blankets. To their right was a tiny kitchenette with missing cabinet doors and the fridge door doesn’t look like it exactly closes all the way.

Eleanor stepped forward, her mouth still dropped open in shock. She steps inside the tiny bathroom, holding a blackened toilet and a dirty sink and shower. She snatched a random bottle of pills lying in the medicine cabinet (which was also missing a door) and the pills read: “Estrogen; please do not take if male”.

She turned back around and tossed them to Zayn, who caught them with ease. “Estrogen, please do not-” He stopped and tossed them to the side, letting the bottle roll around the kitchen floor. She couldn’t believe this. “This is extremely painful for me, I can feel my Toreador blood just fucking bubbling.” He says, picking up one of the notes lying on the desk.

“You too though, Ventrue.” He smiled, reading the next note. “What’s a Tor-e-ader?” She asks, trying to repeat the word the way she heard it. “Toreador. That is my clan.” He responds simply, eventually sitting down in the computer chair, clicking away on the laptop. 

“Okay? I have a lot of questions, Zayn.” She glances down at the bed before finally deciding to just sit on the floor, crossing her legs. It’s also just now dawning on her that they’ll have to share that nasty bed. He spins around in the chair and looks at her, a look of only sympathy. “Shoot.”

“Okay, why did you call me a child?” “Childe. With an E at the end- because a childe is a term used by the sire. Though, we were using it as like… inexperienced. We were using that instead of fledgling since we didn’t know if Prince Douche was going to kill you or not.” 

“What’s embrace? What is kindred? And what is the Camarilla?” “Slow down… okay, embrace is when a vampire turns someone else into a vampire. Kindred is our word for vampire, and the Camarilla are…” He sighed, his face contorting into hatred.

“I’m trying to find a way to say this without sounding…biased.” Eleanor nodded, waiting for him to find his words. “They think they’re like, Kindred government. Like they’re the lawmakers or something. They were the assholes that killed your sire- Sophia.” Eleanor feels odd, like he added that on the end to make sure Eleanor gets the idea in her head that they’re not “right”. Or maybe he was just pointing it out. Either way she only feels like hate should be associated with the name.

Eleanor moves to stand, but her body fails, her head feels empty and airy, she feels like she’s starving. Zayn stands up and grabs her arm, keeping her standing. “Come on.” He mumbles, pushing her towards the door. 

“Where are we going, I’m hungry.” “Exactly. We’re getting you food, Eleanor.” He says, leading her out of the building completely. He pulls her to a stop in front of the pawnshop, and surveys the surrounding area. “What are you doing?” “Looking for a snack for Venture taste. Neither of us can eat fucking bums.” 

“What?! We’re going to kill someone?!” “Sh!” He yelps, shutting her voice up, but her brain is still buzzing with protest and slight disgust. “No we’re not killing anyone, unlike Sabbat, I value my humanity.” “What’s Sabba-” “There.” He interrupts her, nodding his head at a man leaning against a building not too far from them.

“He’s wearing Prada, let’s go.” Zayn commands, pushing Eleanor forward gently. “What? What do I do?” Zayn sighs, “Seduce him. Make him follow you into that alley and then you feed. But! Don’t kill him. Count to six, then stop.” Eleanor shakes her head, her hair flying around her. “No, Zayn I can’t seduce him?! What does that even mean, that’s weird, you do it!” Zayn sighs, “Fine, but then you have to do the next one. You have to learn how to do it sometime.”

Zayn steps forward, and Eleanor grabs his arm, pulling him back next to her. “You’re going to seduce that man… seriously?” “…Yeah? Have you even looked at me?” He scoffs and pulls his arm from her grip, continuing towards the man. Eleanor rolls her eyes, but…she’s got to see this.

She stands close enough to hear them. Zayn walks up to the man, an innocent look on his face. “Excuse me, sir?” Zayn asks, the man looking up at him from his phone. “Uh, yes?” He asks, looking at Zayn cautiously, like he might mug him or something.

“Is everything alright? You don’t exactly seem like you belong here, you look too…good.” The man laughs, looking behind Zayn. “Well so do you.” Zayn smiles at that, a genuine looking, crinkly eyed smile. Eleanor’s starting to understand the whole Toreador thing. “Have you got the time?” The man lifts his wrist up, “Oh! What a beautiful watch?” Zayn comments, taking the man’s wrist gently. 

The man’s cheeks turn a different color, “Oh, yes, well my wife bought it for an anniversary gift.” “Oh? I hope she wouldn’t mind me saying you look great in a suit.” He reaches for the man’s lapels and tugs on them, his fingers staying curled there. Somehow Zayn got his body significantly closer to his and Eleanor has no clue how he’s managed that.

The man’s hands have ended up on Zayn’s waist, “Not here…come with me.” Zayn whispers, his lips dragging over the man’s jaw. While Eleanor’s jaw has completely dropped. This man has a wife and probably children at home and here he is, letting Zayn slink into his mind. And also letting Zayn pull him off in a random alley near their apartment. 

Eleanor follows after them, watching her surroundings, making sure no one else is around to witness anything. She watches Zayn push the man against the wall and lips trail over the man’s throat as Zayn tugs Eleanor in next to him. “Follow my lead.” He whispers, sinking his teeth into the guy’s throat. Blood begins to trickle down Zayn’s chin and the man looks into it, and even though Eleanor’s brain is screaming ‘no!’ she joins in, taking the other side.

The blood slides down her throat slowly, filling her up and the clench in her chest disappears right before her eyes. It’s like it was never there. She lost count after five and the seconds fly by way too fast, and suddenly Zayn’s pulling her by her elbow, and they watch as the man slumps against the wall, completely dazed. It’s like…a trance or something. This is all very strange.

Zayn’s smiling at her, his mouth bloody and stained. “Couldn’t you taste the Ph.D.?” He asks, his voice low and all husky, like he just woke up from a nap. Though Eleanor feels much more awake now as well. “How… did I ever live without that?” She asks, her eyes glazing over in euphoria. She felt like she was on some drug. 

Suddenly she bursts out laughing and Zayn looks at her like she’s gone hysterical on him. “What?” He asks, trying his best not to look worried. “You...you!” She stops, only laughing. It’s like her emotions are all wonky or something. She doesn’t mean to be laughing. She just is. This whole situation is oddly comical.

“You! I can’t believe that man-!” She laughs again, her eyes closing in joy. Like she can’t stand to look at anything it’s so funny. She hears Zayn start laughing too though, like he caught on. “Yeah, Kine are so stupid.” He explains, chuckling. She’s too busy laughing she can’t even ask what Kine is. Though she’s assuming its humans. 

Zayn scoffs, grabbing her arm and standing her up, wiping the blood from the corners of her mouth. “Will you shut up you freak.” He mumbles, though when she opens her eyes he’s smiling at her. “Now, Ventrue, tomorrow, we’ll work on your Kindred Training Regiment; By Zayn Malik.” He smirks, wiping his own mouth.

“Wow, you named it.” “I named it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Last night, or morning (Eleanor should say) went, well… less than smooth.

She pulled her hair up in a tight ponytail, watching Zayn throw some sheets and blankets he stole from the first apartment, on the bed. “There’s one bed, and it looks like it has bed bugs. And it’s moldy, Zayn.” She pouted, and this has to be excruciating for him too. From what he told her, their clans were alike in that way. She, after all, could feel her blood speaking to her.

“Eleanor… shush, I can’t do anything about the mattress, just be thankful I found blankets.” “Yeah, ‘found’ them. Sure you did, champ.” She sighs, waiting for him to finish with this odd, impatience boiling inside of her. Things were changing with her. Things were getting weird. Maybe it was the dead thing.

“So, aren’t we supposed to meet that Mercurio guy sometime?” “LaBitch told me to teach you first. Which is smart. He doesn’t want you to fail, and neither do I. Once your score is settled with him,” He pauses, taking the time to look Eleanor in the eyes. “Don’t give him the time of night, Eleanor.”

Eleanor felt compelled again, like all she could do was nod, except it was different this time. It didn’t feel like magic, it just felt like he was being serious, like he needed her to understand this. And she did. She didn’t want to be his little puppet after this. He spared her, and wants her to learn. And that’s all she’ll let him do. Or what she plans on at least. 

Sophia’s face haunted her through her sleep.

She saw her and Sophia smiling, dancing. Their favorite songs were playing in the background, they spun around in the void of her mind. Mimicking what was. Sophia’s grip on Eleanor arms tightened as they spun faster and faster, and Sophia only got colder.

Her arms snapped, pulling away from her body, and they turned to gold dust, Sophia’s body falling into the abyss, and landing with a loud thud. 

Eleanor’s eyes snapped open, and she felt like the blanket was suffocating her, it was like a snake closing tight around her body. She kicked the covers off and ran her hands over her face as she stood up, her feet meeting the cool floor. 

“Nightmare?” She yelped, like a hurt animal and spun around, Zayn sat atop the counter, a newspaper in his hands. The front page read “MURDER ON SANTA MONICA PIER: POLICE BAFFLED”. Fantastic reading material, clearly.

She nods, swallowing down nothing. Her throat felt like a dry desert. “Yeah, how’d you know?” “You get them a lot in the beginning. It’ll stop soon. Eventually you might not even be able to sleep for weeks on end.” She sighs, pushing loose strands of hair behind her ear. 

“What time is it?” “8:30. Uh, PM. Obviously.” He replied, looking down at the watch on his wrist, which he didn’t have before. But Eleanor does remember a certain rich Santa Monican that did have that watch.

“Oh. Well, is that early or late?” She asks, reaching for the fridge door and peering in, only seeing about, three blood packs. She’s not sure what she expected exactly. “Early. Very, actually, especially for summertime. But, the suns down by now. Uh, don’t drink those. I’m gonna teach you how to catch a live one.” 

She places the pack back down, rolling her eyes, and she literally has to suppress the urge to groan. “I’m not a fisher! And why do they have a letter B on them?” She asks, obviously they’re blood, it’d just be stupid to mark them as so though. “Uh, B stands for Blue. Blue blood. It’s like the rich guy, and not the homeless guys.” “So, like, better blood? Isn’t it all the same though?”

Zayn laughs, tossing the newspaper to the side and slinking off of the counter. His shoes click against the tile and they look new. He seems to be the resourceful type. “No, it’s not. And, you and I-see, we can’t eat the dirty types. Toreador’s, personally, will vomit. I don’t remember exactly if Ventrue’s do, but I’m about 99% sure they will.”

“Vomit? I don’t believe it. I’m a big scary vampire now! Blood doesn’t hurt me you fiend!” She shouts, a smile on her face as she hisses, sticking her fingers in Zayn’s throat. He bites down on his lower lip, trying to hide his smile. “Shut up!” He yelps, pushing her hands away. “Let’s go, dork.” He mumbles, grabbing her wrist and pushing her towards the door. “I’m gonna eat a big scary bum!” She shouts, pushing the front door open, Zayn following her closely.

“Hey, lady! Spare some change lady?” A man asks, he reaches his hand out, and he’s got some torn gloves on. Zayn sneers and covers his mouth, as if not wanting to say anything. “Go on, Eleanor. Give him some… change.” He nudges her, shoving her forward a bit.

She glances around nervously, making sure no one’s watching, and ignores Zayn’s kicks to her calf. She sighs, grabbing the man by his ripped scarf. She bares her new fangs, and pierces the skin on his throat.

His blood flows much faster, and it’s much thinner than the man’s from last night. This man’s blood has a tang to it, and not the good kind. It feels like needles in her throat instead of liquid gold. She shoves him back, and the blood claws it’s way up her throat, and she spews it back out, gagging all of it onto the man and the pavement.

She keeps gagging it out as a hand (Zayn’s, she presumes) pats her on the back. And it’s not comforting either. It a big ‘I told you so’. It’s equal to the slow clap when someone tells a bad joke. It’s degrading.

Eleanor stands back up, wiping the remains of her lovely dinner from her lips. “I…” she begins, holding in another gag. “Hate you.” She mumbles, and Zayn clasps his hands together in joy, a small chuckle leaving his lips. “Oh, Eleanor. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I told you so.” She sighs, plopping down onto the ground. 

He eventually takes a seat next to her and leans his head against the door. “How’d you know Sophia?” She asks, kicking up some of the dirt around them. “Did I tell you who the ANARCHs are yet?” He asks, seemingly avoiding her question. She sighs, “Answer my question.” “It’s related.”

She shakes her head, looking over at Zayn, who’s staring off into the alley, thinking about something. Just like Sophia used to do. “The ANARCHs are anti-Camarilla. I guess that's what they call me. Me, Nines, Damsel, Jack, and Skelter, are the resident anarchs.” Eleanor shrugs, and shakes her head. “I don’t get it, what do you do?” Zayn sits up straight and his eyes change, he finally looks at Eleanor again. He was passionate about this. 

“We fight for our rights, Eleanor. The Camarilla aren’t needed here. Their so-called laws are common sense. Don’t get caught feeding and don’t exploit your Kindred. All wolves know not to expose themselves to the sheep. No one deserves to be ruled. We’re free-living dead! We spent our lives be ruled and now our afterlives? I don’t think so,” He paused, just laughing at the thought.

“The Camarilla aren’t needed in LA. They got kicked out on their asses a while ago. They come back when someone new is in charge, AKA the ‘Prince’.” He mocks, literally spitting out his disgust afterwards. “And this has to do with Soph, how?” She asks, not like she wasn’t interested, she was just wondering where her friend fit in. 

“Sophia was an anarch. She was kick-ass at it too. The only reason LaCroix thought his laws applied to her was because she was doing a favor for Mercurio. The guy we have to see apparently. But they didn’t apply to Sophia!” He yells, standing up and running his hands over his face, a method to calm himself down.

Eleanor could feel imaginary tears well around her eyes just watching him. He looked helpless. He looked like he missed Sophia as much as she did. If that was even possible. “Then how was he allowed to kill her?” She asks, anger in her tone as well. 

“The bastard thinks that every Kindred is automatically apart of the Camarilla, which is bullshit! That’s like saying every human is automatically Christian! It just doesn’t fucking work that way!” He yells, then immediately glances around him, afraid he attracted some attention. Though Eleanor wouldn’t care if he did. She wanted him to be mad. She wanted someone to feel what she was feeling.

Except she also felt helpless. She felt aggravated, she felt… hopeless. She couldn’t go back in time and re do everything. 

“I wish I was a vampire before this. I wish Sophia did this to me a long time ago. Then maybe I could’ve defended her or something and fuck! Why can’t I cry!?” She screams, standing up from the ground and dusting her pants off angrily. Zayn laughs, nodding at her. “You just can’t, El.” He says, though it’s not much of an explanation. 

She sighs, “Oh.” She feels dumb for yelling, she feels dumb for being upset. She just misses Sophia. And she hates the Camarilla with an odd burning passion in this moment. It’s like her blood controlling her again. She feels like she needs things to change. She hates knowing the blood in her veins and the blood in LaCroix’s are the same.

*

“Okay, that one.” Zayn says, pointing to a large, old looking building. It’s got pillars and it looks like the wind could damage it, but there’s huge, gold neon letters hanging over the front. It reads ‘The Asylum’, and Zayn says the blood in there is good to drink and she has no choice but to trust him really (though he hasn’t given her a reason not to. He seems to be right a lot).

She trudges forward, pushing the large, wooden double doors open, and they thump against her fingers, the music inside just positively buzzing. The walls are a dark red, and she can barely see anything else after walking in completely. There’s rainbow strobe lights coloring up the dark club, though it doesn’t exactly make it any brighter in here.

Eleanor flinches, a loud giggle scaring her out of her concentration. There’s a blonde girl standing in front of them, her hair in pigtails. The end of them a pink or a red, she can’t really tell at the moment. She’s got on some eye makeup that looks like she’d been crying, though it’s all for show, since she’s smiling so wide her cheeks might split. And, the school girl outfit is definitely throwing Eleanor off, how old is she?

“I knew you were coming! The skies opened, angels were singing, the earth was moving! Whispers were screaming ‘Adonis!’ They crackled like the ocean’s fireworks!” She shouts, her smile not dissipating a bit. “Jeanette!” Zayn shouts, and she pulls him in for a… intimate hug. She runs her hands down his sides and he places his hands on her hips. 

“Who is this little duckling?” She asks, searching Eleanor’s face. The only thing she’s sure to find is a lot of confusion. And maybe some contempt, but hopefully she’ll keep that a secret. “Jeanette, this is Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Jeanette Voerman-” “Owner and proprietor of this club.” She finishes for Zayn, her lips still smiling. Eleanor wants to ask if it hurts but, the woman seems insane.

“You smell new little girl, like fabric softener dew on freshly mowed Astroturf. Oh, I'm not frightening you, am I, duckling?” She asks, a pout now on her lips instead of the smile she’s seen. Eleanor glances to Zayn, almost asking if she should run, but Zayn’s just grinning, like he knew this was going to be a shit show.

“Uh, no. You’re not frightening me.” She answers, and smiles politely, not trying to get kicked out of the club so soon. Or so sober, for a matter of fact. “Well I’d love to give you funny feelings all night, but I’m afraid I’ve got business to attend to! Don’t hesitate to visit me again Donny.” She says, facing Zayn again, and her eyes say that visit does not mean the same thing as saying “don’t forget to visit your grandmother”.

Jeanette slinks out of Zayn’s hold and saunters towards an elevator in the far right corner, like she knew people were watching. “Uh, who is Donny?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s short for Adonis. She’s Malkavian, it’s better to not question anything she says…or does. You’ll just get confused.”

“Malkavian? So what is that, another clan?” “Yes, but no more questions, pick a morsel.” He says, rubbing his hands together. Eleanor watches him glance around. “So what, you and Jeanette a thing or something?” He looks upstairs, trying to find someone ideal for Eleanor, and ignores her question. “Jeanette doesn’t do relationships and I don’t do Malks, now go.” He nudges her forward.

She stumbles a bit and glares at him, “Okay, okay. Who do I go for? There’s too many people.” She groans, trying to find someone alone but she can’t. Everyone seems to be either dancing in the crowd or hanging around near other people.

“Just, make it look like you’re kissing, or giving them a hickey or something. Seduction can’t violate the stupid Masquerade.” He explains, his patience thinning more and more each second. “Okay, geez, fine. I’m going.” She replies, rolling her eyes. He’s so demanding. She wonders if it’s his clan or him that’s like that. She’ll have to ask later.

She makes her way towards the black staircase closest to her, and walks up it slowly, too nervous about making it to the top. She glances down and stops in the middle of the staircase, looking around for Zayn. She looks towards the bar and sees him sipping what looks like a Martini, and he’s looking up at her, grinning like the bastard he is.

He gives her a small thumbs up and she continues up the demon stairs. Sighing softly to herself of course. She looks around and sees a girl standing near the railing, by herself. She makes her way towards her and she’s sure if her heart could still beat it would be pounding right now.

She joins her by leaning against the rails as well, and the girl faces her, her hair cut short and she’s wearing some crop top that says ‘States’, it’s hideous, but it doesn’t matter what she’s wearing. It’s in her veins that Eleanor’s truly worried about (though she’s sure Zayn would be throw off just from an outfit, the snob).

“Is this place always so dead?” She asks Eleanor, and even though there’s tons of people downstairs and even a dozen or so up here, she agrees, nodding. “I know, everyone here is so boring, don’t you think?” “I know! Does no one know how to party?” And she’s smirking like she’s talking about drugs, so Eleanor goes with it.

“I don’t need drugs to have a good time, wanna see?” She asks, leaning towards her and she can feel something click inside of her, like her eyes have changed. Like something inside of her snapped, or maybe even clicked together. It’s like she’s a born again predator.

The girl leans near her and she makes an unsure face. “I’ve never done anything with a girl before.” She mumbles, embarrassed. Eleanor can’t even think like herself anymore, she would normally reply with something like ‘well me neither' but that’s not even an option in her brain. “It’s easy, let me show you.” She speaks, her tone irresistible to even herself.

The girl comes closer and Eleanor tilts her head up with her finger, and the girl’s throat becomes exposed, but she doesn’t look uncomfortable, far from it. Eleanor leans in, piercing her skin with her teeth. Nothing will taste as good as the first time, Eleanor notices this, but it tastes much better than the homeless man. She tastes like some type of wine, or at least her blood does.

She releases her, feeling the girls pulse slow makes her stop, she figures that would be a sign to stop at least. She watches the girl slump over the rail and she becomes limp and dazed, just as the rich guy and the homeless guy had. Just a side effect, she guesses.

“Beautiful work.” She turns around, and smiles up at Zayn. She throws her arms around him and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, or what would be one if his bones hadn’t been stronger than hers. “Did you see that?!” She shouted over the current music track and Zayn even hugs her back a bit.

“Don’t you just love seduction?” He replies, laughing a bit. “I’m proud of you.” He adds on, letting her go. Her smile is still wide, she feels reborn, and she feels like a fucking god. “Zayn that was so fucking awesome! I like, changed! Like I just convinced her to let me! Holy shit, I’m a god!” She yells, her arms flying around in excitement.

Zayn smiles at her, he looks just as happy as she does. Which, she’s noticed that all of Zayn’s emotions are genuine. Zayn feels so human even though he’s not. “I love that about you, Eleanor.” He says, watching her still marvel over her work. “You’re still new, so you’re still so alive!” He shouts, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the stairs. 

“Where are we going?!” She yells, joy still overriding the rest of her emotions. “Dancing!” He yells back, stopping in the middle of the dance floor. And, hell yeah Eleanor’s gonna dance. A victory dance for the ages.

 

*

Eleanor’s body was stuck, like she was paralyzed. She sat in a chair, floating in the void and watched Sophia get closer. Her steps not making a sound. The only thing she could hear was her heart pounding in her chest.

Sophia’s smile was the same as she watched her get closer, all wide and happy as she remembered. But, the closer Sophia got the bloodier her mouth became. 

Eleanor shook her head, not believing the sight. Sophia’s mouth leaked out blood like a fountain, a non-stop stream of it. “Soph?” Eleanor whispered, watching as Sophia kneeled in front of her, kneeling on nothing but the void.

“Does it hurt?” She asks, her teeth stained red, but the smile still remained. Eleanor titled her head and shook it, not understanding. Sophia nods down at her and repeats, “Does it hurt?” Eleanor looks down and sees a gash on her throat the size of a pencil and as wide as her hand. 

Blood oozed down her body and more flowed from Sophia’s mouth. “Does it hurt?”

Eleanor shot up, her hair sticking to her forehead and the sheets clinging against her warm skin. “Where is the damn air conditioning?” She asked, looking down at Zayn who sat on the floor near the foot of the bed, clicking through TV stations.

“Ha, jokes on you if you think this place has air conditioning.” He mumbled, watching the TV mindlessly. “Why do you sound so depressed?” She asks, sitting up and crawling near the edge to sit with him. “Have you looked around you?” He asks, his eyes not moving from the TV nonetheless.

“Oh yeah. You like beauty…” She began, trying to look around for a solution. “Well, at least you have me to look at!” She yelled, hoping comedy would work too. She leaned forward and planted a sloppy kiss on the side of his face and he groaned, wiping his cheek off after. But at least doing so with a smile. “Ew, your lips are wet.” “Thank you.”

“So what are you dreaming about?” He asks, turning his head to look at her, which in return makes her look towards the TV instead. She favors looking at the newscaster instead of Zayn, much less intimidating. 

“Sophia, mostly.” She replies, shrugging, trying to seem nonchalant. Though the ‘don’t care’ act has never really worked for Eleanor, and she figures it never will. “I used to dream about my mum. I can’t really remember her now, though.” He says, his voice quiet. Eleanor tilts her head, this reminds her… “You know I can’t remember my family for anything.” 

“That happens sometimes. Usually if you don’t see it right away you forget. Probably why you remember everything about Sophia. You saw her right after, kind of.” He glances down, and the feeling is the same as the night before. Sophia’s a touchy subject for them both, just for different reasons.

“So, I read Mercurio’s email, and he wants us to meet him today, he picked something up for our little task, he said he’d be back by now.” “What time is it?” “9:00.”

//

They walked only a little ways to the building next door, and even though it was so close it was still 10 times nicer than their building, this should honestly be a crime. It seems like LaCroix picked a shitty place on purpose.

“I feel like a rat.” Eleanor sneers, disgusted that she could live in such a nasty place and live next to something so nice. Zayn nudges her arm with his and he nods to the floor. Eleanor looks down and sees a thick trail of blood leading to the last suite. “Is that his room?” She asks, looking back up at Zayn, who seems just as curious.

“Yeah.” He replies, stopping in front of Mercurio’s door. Eleanor shoves the door open and the first thing they see upon entering is a bleeding man lying on a blue sofa. It looks expensive. Or, at least it did. The bloody man sits up at the sound of them entering and he groans. “About fuckin’ time! I’m bleedin’ out over here!” He yelps, his voice wavering.

Zayn scoffs, the look on his face annoyed, like he has no patience for the man already. Though she does remember Zayn telling her Sophia was doing a favor for Mercurio before LaCroix killed her. 

“What happened?” Eleanor asks, trying not to step in his blood though it’s quite a difficult task. “Assholes down on the beach, took my money, took the Astrolite, and took my damn teeth!” He moans, apparently it was painful just to speak. Though he does seem to have a rib poking through his side, so.

Eleanor looked over at Zayn, confused. “I thought he would be a vampire?” She whispers, and Zayn shakes his head. “No, a damn Ghoul is all he is. And before you ask, a Ghoul is a human who drinks Kindred blood.” She nods, storing that information in her brain.

“You gotta get it back for me, you’re vampires. Go down there and kick their asses! Kill ‘em, I don’t care.” “This was your job, and you can’t even do it.” Zayn spits, his voice thick with hate. “We’ll get it done.” Eleanor stops Zayn from saying anything else. “On the beach you said?” Zayn side eyes her, but she just looks at Mercurio, waiting for response.

“Yeah, they live in a beach shack on the hill. There’s five or six of them, so watch out.” He responds, rolling over and resting his head against the arm of the couch.

Eleanor turns around and leads her and Zayn out of his room. “What the hell was that?” He asks, following her to the front door regardless. “If you want something done right you have to do it yourself, Zayn. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that?”


End file.
